The Long, Slow Sleep of Death Embalmed
by Gaara and his Little Panda-kun
Summary: In which Aragorn wonders if he will be allowed to rest with his ancestors without feeling ashamed of what he almost gave up. Aragorncentric, thoughts on death. Mentions of his son, Eldarion.


The Kings of Old know nothing of their descendants. Do we deserve place in their halls, I wonder? Do we deserve to be near them, after making the mistakes they were too wise, too strong, too innocent to make? Are we so corrupted by this war that we do not have a hope of becoming what they'd wished us to be? Seldom do I wonder so terribly, but seldom am I left alone as I am now.

Since the beginning of the days of Arda, when the Valar had gotten their wish and the animals awakened, we have been watched by those before us. At first it was the Valar. Then it was their descendants. Then leaders. Chieftains. Kings. We strive, hoping to be like them, feeling nothing but disappointment as we fall to our knees before the chasms they were strong enough to leap, dissolving into tears at the quandaries they were wise enough to solve, experiencing the dismay of bitter faces upturned at you, praying you die, while your ancestors were kind enough to keep smiles upon the faces of those they were expected to rule.

Am I to be allowed with my ancestors? Will my fathers be proud of my accomplishments? Will I be scolded for my fading into the north, for joining the league of Rangers, for taking the name of Thorongil and serving kings that could have been my colleagues? Will they hate me for my wish to avoid that which was rightfully mine? My actions would have been the catalyst for our line to fade; and would they have been alright with that? Would they have let me rest knowing that our line was accomplished and finished well? Or would they had looked away in disgrace and barred the gates to me, looking down upon the Ranger when they had expected a King?

I said I did not fear death, and I did not; I was not lying when I laid that claim, nor was I lying when I said anything else. But to say that I wasn't afraid at all is indeed a lie, and a terrible one at that; for man is never afraid of nothing, and every man must have a fear if he is to have the courage to overcome it.

My fear was this; that I was a disgrace to my fathers, a disgrace to the Numenor, that I had disappointed my mother, who had given so much to save me. That when my time finally came, the doors would remain shut, and my knock would go unanswered. That I would be left floating among the other souls who had been shunned because of what they had chosen to become, versus what they had been expected to be.

I know now, however, that such disappointments, though I may have caused them, I know I could never feel; should my son, my dear boy, flee to the north and hide from his sworn duty, I know I would still acknowledge and love him. I could never not love him; he is my own kin, and the connection I feel to him is more than enough for him to earn my wholehearted forgiveness for any choice that he makes, so long as it is one that will satisfy the needs he carries and release the burdens he hides. Should he become a ranger, I would not hesitate to still love him, even though I am expecting a king.

And now, I do not feel so afraid. For I know that if unconditional love surrounds the one I have sired, then unconditional love surrounds me in the form of Arathorn's blessings, and his will to see me to _life._ And, thus, my fears are alleviated, and silenced.

And now all I await is the long, slow sleep of death embalmed, quite like the sleep my fathers lay in before me. For the moment I reach that second where I fall into eternal rest, I can wait with peace in my heart, knowing that when the knock finally comes, I will be more the happy to answer.

King or no king, the door is always open, but not for the deeds you had done, or the people you had met; but out of all of my love.

* * *

_Aragorn repeatedly says 'I do not fear death': well, then, what does he fear? I wrote this because I was thinking about it._

_Now shut up, muse, and let me sleep._

_Title is from Denethor's line in RotK._


End file.
